Chapter 18: The Mountain Vegetable Requiem and the Queen's Downfall
(Suzune POV)
The cafeteria of Advanced Nurturing High School is currently functioning as the epicenter of a very quiet, very intense revolution.
It is the third day of our enrollment. By all logical metrics, the social hierarchy should be settling into its rigid, predetermined castes. But logic took a one-way train out of Tokyo the moment Sunny stepped onto this campus.
I take a slow, calculating sip of my water, my eyes scanning the room. The second-year students are practically vibrating with a suppressed, manic energy. For the first time since we arrived, the upperclassmen aren't walking around like they are one bad exam away from a breakdown. Even the notoriously destitute Class 2-D is sitting at the tables, enthusiastically consuming actual food—karaage, ramen, pork cutlets—instead of the free, flavorless slop usually reserved for the bottom feeders.
The dark, oppressive cloud known as Miyabi Nagumo has been temporarily dispersed.
His goons, the sycophants who usually enforce his will, are sitting in the corners, keeping their heads down, chewing their food in terrified silence. Their leader is currently hospitalized, and the sheer, unadulterated economic chaos that has followed in his wake is beautiful to behold. It is incredibly entertaining to witness the aftermath of Sunny's brand of biological, rule-exploiting warfare.
And yet, despite the victory of the first years and the liberation of the second years, I am currently staring down into a bowl of profound misery.
The Free Mountain Vegetable Set Meal.
It looks like the concept of despair boiled in lukewarm water. It smells like wet dirt and regret. [R.I.P. My Tastebuds]
I pick up my chopsticks, my expression a mask of deadpan endurance. How did I end up here? Simple. I got too competent, too confident in my own tactical superiority, and I walked right into a trap laid by Arisu Sakayanagi. And Sunny? My so-called partner in crime? He didn't even try to stop it. I suspect he either wanted me grounded to keep my ego in check, or he simply wanted the comedic value of watching the "Ice Queen" force-feed herself boiled roots. Either way, at least our class is fully stocked on points and prepared for whatever ridiculous exam the school throws at us next.
I take a bite. It tastes exactly like failure.
Suddenly, the ambient light shifts. A shadow falls over my table, accompanied by a presence that practically radiates chaotic, Toon-Force energy.
A warm left hand lands squarely on the top of my head, the fingers ruffling my hair with an infuriatingly familiar rhythm. Simultaneously, a small, pristine plate is slid onto the table, directly in front of my vegetable wasteland.
A chocolate mousse cake. The good kind. The one that costs an obscene amount of private points.
"Looking a little green there, Empress," Sunny's voice drops in, lazy, warm, and dripping with amusement. He is the living, breathing embodiment of chaos, and yet, sitting beside me, he is exactly what I need.
I keep my eyes on the cake, a tiny, almost imperceptible sigh of relief escaping my lips. I hate that he knows me this well.
"Thank you," I say, my voice small, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a full emotional display.
He obviously hears it. He is practically built for this kind of banter.
Sunny immediately leans down, bringing his ear ridiculously close to my face, cupping a hand around it like a hearing aid. "Suzu, the connection is bad. I'm getting static. I didn't hear that clearly. Can you speak into the microphone? Maybe drop a little more gratitude on the syllabus?"
I glare at him, my chopstick hovering dangerously close to his eye. "Push your luck, Sunny, and I will use my compass to permanently rewrite your facial structure."
He laughs, a bright, booming sound that draws the attention of half the cafeteria. He teases me for another solid minute, relishing the fact that I am entirely dependent on his sugary contraband to survive this lunch period.
"Besides," Sunny pivots, his blue eyes flashing with a dangerous, theatrical glint. He turns away from me and looks across the table. "I have other debts to collect."
Sitting opposite us, radiating a quiet, refined superiority, is Arisu Sakayanagi.
Sunny doesn't hesitate. He reaches across the table and drops his left hand directly onto Arisu's silver hair.
He head-pats her.
The entire cafeteria goes completely, utterly silent. You could drop a pin and hear it shatter the ego of every Class A student in a fifty-foot radius. It is the ultimate disrespect. Sunny is doing it right in the middle of the most populated room on campus, fully maximizing the emotional damage for the highest possible yield of mental points.
Arisu's expression freezes. Her eyes widen a fraction of a millimeter. Because of the rules of their ridiculous little bet, she cannot say no. She has to sit there and take it.
(Arisu POV)
I am currently being treated like a domestic pet.
My mind is processing the event with a cold, terrifying clarity. I am Arisu Sakayanagi, the absolute authority of Class A, a genius born to rule this pathetic ecosystem of flawed human beings. And right now, my head is being rhythmically patted by a boy wearing a completely unapologetic grin.
My reputation is taking a catastrophic hit in real-time. I can feel the eyes of my classmates burning into the back of my neck. They are watching their Queen be humiliated.
I maintain my serene, porcelain smile, though inside, I am drafting a multi-step plan to systematically destroy his entire bloodline.
Earlier, when he first sat down, I attempted to probe his defenses. I asked him about his origins, specifically his last name, looking for a thread I could pull.
"I'm half-American," he had replied effortlessly, taking a bite of his food.
What kind of answer is that? It's a deflection, a brazen lie wrapped in a casual shrug. Digging up information on this campus is child's play for me, but whether I can actually find a usable weapon against a boy who operates on cartoon logic is a problem for my future self. Right now, I have to survive this lunch period without breaking my cane over his knee.
I shift the conversation, utilizing the head-patting distraction to extract tactical data.
"Sunny-kun," I begin, my voice perfectly level, saccharine sweet. "I am exceedingly curious. How exactly did you manage to put Vice President Nagumo in the hospital on the third day of school?"
Sunny doesn't stop the head-pats. He actually hums, tilting his head as if recalling a fond memory. "You know, Arisu, quite a few students are very, very angry with that guy. The second years were basically living on rations. So, I just did a little charity work. I gave them the opportunity, pointed them in the right direction, and they used a nuclear option. It's all about delegating."
A nuclear option.
My brain accelerates, connecting the dots. He didn't attack Nagumo directly. He found a faction—likely a specialized club, perhaps the science or culinary club—who already possessed a deep-seated grudge and the means to exploit the school's strict biological safety regulations. He gave them the blueprint, and they pulled the trigger. Plausible deniability.
I must admit, he has a flair for the dramatic. He taught Nagumo a lesson, shattering his pride and his body simultaneously. And looking at Sunny's grinning face, it's entirely obvious he enjoyed every single second of it. He intentionally did me a favor by removing a second-year obstacle, but he's making me pay for it in dignity.
The hand finally lifts from my head. I smoothly fix my hair, my smile tightening.
This little display has cost me. Class A thrives on the illusion of absolute superiority. If I want to defeat Sunny in the long game, I have to completely conquer my own class first. I need absolute obedience. The upcoming Island Exam is too far away; I cannot afford to wait.
Plan B it is, I think to myself. I have to control Class A from the shadows, manipulating them boldly to do my bidding. I have a lot of work to do. But first...
"Is your next target going to be that Temu One-Punch Man?" Sunny asks suddenly, leaning his chin on his hand.
I blink. For a fraction of a second, genuine shock registers on my face before a soft, elegant laugh escapes my lips. Temu One-Punch Man. He is talking about Katsuragi. The bald, overly cautious fool who currently thinks he can contest my rule in Class A. Sunny sees right through the internal politics of my class.
"He is certainly a stepping stone," I reply smoothly.
I turn my gaze away from Sunny and look at Suzune. She is currently savoring her chocolate mousse cake, completely ignoring the punishment meal she was originally forced to eat. The sight of her enjoying the spoils of Sunny's intervention irritates me.
I put on my most sympathetic, razor-sharp smile.
"Did you enjoy your mountain vegetable set meal, Horikita-san?" I ask, my voice dripping with mock concern. "It must be so humbling to dine like the commoners of Class D."
Suzune pauses. She places her fork down on the plate with deliberate slowness. She looks up, her eyes cold, calculating, and entirely devoid of mercy. She has been infected by Sunny's brand of psychological warfare, and she wields it with surgical precision.
"Oh, I enjoyed it immensely, Sakayanagi-san," Suzune fires back, her voice a flat, deadpan drawl that somehow carries across the entire table. "Almost as much as you're enjoying being treated like a petting zoo attraction in front of your entire class. If you love my vegetables so much, how about I treat you next time? They're packed with calcium. Who knows? If you eat enough of them, you might actually hit five feet tall before graduation. But let's be real... the only thing growing today is your ego."
A few students at the neighboring tables gasp.
I grip the handle of my cane under the table. Her sarcasm is blunt force trauma masquerading as a medical recommendation. It lacks elegance, but it is brutally effective.
"How kind of you to offer," I reply, my smile not reaching my eyes. "But I prefer my meals to have actual substance. Just like my strategies."
I stand up, leaning gracefully on my cane. There is nothing more to gain here today. I need to retreat, assess the damage, and begin accumulating capital. If I want to wage war against this chaotic duo, I need points. Millions of them. A stable supply that will last until my third year.
Given my physical limitations, brute force exams are out of the question. The best path forward is institutional domination. The Chess Club, or perhaps the E-Sports Club. I just have to investigate which organization holds the highest concentration of surplus points, and then systematically break their leaders until they hand the treasury over to me.
"Enjoy your cake, Horikita-san," I say, turning my back on them. "And Sunny-kun... do wash your hands. You never know where they've been."
As I walk out of the cafeteria, retreating to the quiet sanctuary of my room, I can hear Sunny's booming laugh echoing behind me.
Laugh while you can, Sunny, I think to myself, my eyes narrowing as the cafeteria doors slide shut. By the end of this month, I will crash your ego into the dirt, and you will be nothing more than my Butler Boy.